


when you have to fight the agony

by kyitsya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anakin Skywalker Whump, Angst, Be Careful What You Wish For, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Necromancy, Nightsister Magic | Dathomir Magic (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi Angst, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Whump, everyone hop onto the pain train, i swear i will write some fluff some day, this is what i get for reading frankenstein in class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyitsya/pseuds/kyitsya
Summary: Obi-Wan bundles Ahsoka closer as a promise springs into his mind—his mind alone, for the promise is formed out of attachment and fear, and such emotions should not be tainting his thoughts, but the pain that has swarmed them both says otherwise.'I'll bring him back, Ahsoka. I promise.'
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	when you have to fight the agony

Too much.  
  
There is too much red staining his shaking hands, dripping onto the ground, blossoming through the dark tabards. Too much red pouring past the crevices of his fingers as he struggles to stem the bleeding, though he _knows_ it's useless. A lightsaber can cauterize outside wounds, but it can't fix internal bleeding.

Too much red leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan can do _nothing_.

"You're alright, stay with me." Obi-Wan presses his hand harder against the wound, cursing the odds that they have been given. "Help's coming anytime now."

They had not called for immediate back up before they departed. Anakin knows this just as well as he does.

"Obi-Wan..." His eyes snap to Anakin's. He witnesses the dull pain that has washed over Anakin, the shock doing its work and ridding him of most feeling. 

_Perhaps it’s for the better._

The thought does nothing to prevent the tremor that rushes through him. He feels the stutter of Anakin's heart beneath his palms. The unfocused look in Anakin's eyes says it all.

"Come on now, eyes on me." Obi-Wan whips his head around, surveying for a glimpse of help. Anyone. Anything. He flings himself into the Force, straining to broadcast past the planet's atmosphere to any Jedi near them. He has done it once on Zigoola, surely, he can do it again.

"Obi-Wan..."

"Hold on, I can reach someone—"

He can't. He knows it's impossible, but he tries. He tries until he's sure that his nose is about to start bleeding from the strong, yet futile efforts. He tries, and he tries, and he tries—

"Obi-Wan, _please_..."

The weak voice tears him from his attempts. Suddenly, Obi-Wan is freezing, though no cold breeze has swept past them, and it's at this moment that Obi-Wan remembers. He remembers clutching onto his Master's shoulders as he silently bargained with the Force to take Qui-Gon's place, the hollowness that had gripped his being, the sting of his eyes as the pyre cast smoke into the air.

It's foolish. It's dangerous. It's _wrong_. But Obi-Wan cannot handle another one. He doesn't want a loved one to still in his arms ever again. Least of all Anakin.

"It's alright..." Anakin mutters. "I'm alright."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not." Anakin agrees, though it does not concern him. He has accepted the outcome. Obi-Wan—the perfect Jedi—has not.

"I— Anakin..."

"You'll be alright... Ahsoka will be alright..." Anakin murmurs, tilting his head sluggishly. Obi-Wan catches Anakin's presence in the Force and hangs on tight. It bleeds right through his grip. "We'll all be alright..."

Anakin doesn't speak after that.

Obi-Wan sits, frozen, staring at him. Inspecting him. Searching for any hints of life. He doesn’t move, his body can't. Anakin's lungs do not draw air. His blue eyes remain open, unseeing. They do not register the movement above when the paralysis finally leaves Obi-Wan and he keels over, forehead resting on top of Anakin's chest.

Obi-Wan doesn't cry. His body shakes, his fingers dig into Anakin's robes, but tears do not leave him. He whispers to himself.

"I'm sorry, I failed you, I failed Ahsoka—the whole Republic, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I failed, I'm sorry—"

Words turn into undecipherable rambles until his lungs burn and he gasps as if he's drowning. He gasps for air that Anakin will never take in again.

The planet is silent.

Help arrives only hours later.

Obi-Wan brushes off the help of the medical staff once he's on the _Negotiator_. Instead, he throws himself into his work, gathering reports of the recent battle, taking toll of how many men and ships lost, ground won, the status of the Separatist fleet. He does his duty—though he feels as though he will drop any moment now—because it's the only thing that his mind can handle right now. Work is comprehensible, death is not.

A hand falls onto his shoulder while he's hunched over the map; he doesn't even notice until Cody shoves himself right in front of him, waking him from his daze.

"Sir, you need to go to Medical."

He blinks, the gears in his head spinning with great difficulty.

Medical. That's where they took Anakin.

"I'm afraid that I'm not comfortable with visiting Medical right now."

There's no hesitation in Cody's response. The commander has known him for too long to be hindered by Obi-Wan's refusals.

"At the very least, go and clean yourself up. I can handle the bridge."

Obi-Wan sways slightly on his feet as he ponders, wondering if he can handle being alone. _In silence. Silence that hung over the planet once Anakin stopped moving._ The thought unsettles him, but he does not suppose that he will do any better on the bridge. His men don't have to see him in such a state.

"Right... right." Obi-Wan mutters at last, movements slow as he turns towards the exit. " _The_ _Resolute_?"

"They'll be arriving soon."

The answer leaves him conflicted.

"Have they been informed?" He can see the sympathy blaze in Cody's eyes. No matter the fact that Anakin isn't his general, he is still kin. All Jedi are to the clones.

"Yes..."

Obi-Wan shuts his eyes for a second, collecting himself. He had no doubt that Ahsoka knew, but Rex and the 501st as well...

"Sir..." Cody hesitates. "I'm sorry."

"It's... I'll be back soon..."

It's too early for condolences.

Obi-Wan makes his way to his quarters. He does not make a move to free himself of his soiled robes nor to attend to his battered body. He sits down and thinks.

He drops to his knees at the sight of her, bone clashing against cold metal. At the sight of her red-rimmed eyes that lock onto his blood-stained clothes and scream at him _please don't tell me it's true._ He feels her sorrow—her pain—in the Force; he can hear her internal pleas for a response from the other side of the bond.

_Please, Skyguy—Anakin!_

Her pleas are met with silence. Obi-Wan doesn't let the silence swallow her whole. He answers it. 

"I'm sorry." He says, and he hates that it’s all he can say as his Grandpadawan breaks apart before him. She clasps a hand over her mouth and a sob rips itself out of her throat, shoulders quaking. Obi-Wan does not try to soothe her with his words. No words can comfort the Padawan before him, nor bring her Master back. Instead, he holds his arms out and lets Ahsoka grasp onto him as she burrows her face into his robes.

His presence embraces hers in the Force, sharing the pain to relieve her of just the slightest of its cruel attack. Too many Padawans have lost their Masters since this cursed war began... and even before that. Obi-Wan bundles Ahsoka closer as a promise springs into his mind—his mind alone, for the promise is formed out of attachment and fear, and such emotions should not be tainting his thoughts, but the pain that has swarmed them both says otherwise.

_I'll bring him back, Ahsoka. I promise._

He ends up retrieving Anakin's body from Medical with the help of Cody, careful to avoid the rest of the battalion. Obi-Wan knows that what he is doing—stealing a corpse—is insane, but surely, he has done worse. Cody only fixes him with a concerned stare when Obi-Wan asks the question out loud.

Cody speaks up once they enter the safety of the unoccupied hangar, no longer in any threat of alerting one of his vod.

"Sir, permission to speak freely."

"Granted."

"Are you out of your mind?" Cody asks and Obi-Wan cannot stop himself from chuckling a tad bit too freely though he knows that that's far from the appropriate response.

"No, no. I'm perfectly fine." He says, glancing quickly at the former Knight that now lies on the cushioned seats of a shuttle that he has cleared for takeoff. He feels Cody's gaze as the clone takes in the dark circles under his eyes, his bruises, and the fact that Obi-Wan has clearly not taken care of himself since coming back.

"I cannot let you go in a state like this. It wouldn't be right."

"Cody... you are the only one I've told about this. Not Rex, not Ahsoka, not the Council. The Temple cannot know of this. For the sake of the Republic, let me leave."

"You're not thinking straight."

"If I was, Anakin would be spending the rest of his life 6 feet under!" Obi-Wan does not like the tone that has latched onto his speech, but he has enough doubts running in his mind now. Doubts—imprinted by the Code—that can steal any chance of getting Anakin back. He can't risk Cody's words dissuading him from his plan. "I can do something. I can bring him back. But nobody else must know."

It's a plea. The Force has not answered many of his pleas in the last 24 hours.

"Let me go with you." The compromise doesn't surprise him in the slightest. A small smile stretches Obi-Wan's lips from the loyalty of his commander. He refuses the offer.

"I cannot drag you into this any more than I have."

"General, you know that I would follow you even into certain death."

"All the more reason to stop you. I cannot lose you too."

Annoyance flares in Cody before it cools into reason.

"Then order me."

"Pardon?"

"Order me to stay behind because that is the _only_ thing that will stop me from taking one of these ships and following you."

Obi-Wan complies, though the act hurts him.

The command fresh in his mind, Cody ceases his attempts to help. Instead, the man lets out a breath out of his nose, stilling the urge to continue.

"Sir... don't do anything rash," is all that Cody manages to say, though Obi-Wan can feel his disapproval. He can see it in his commander's eyes.

_Let the poor man rest._

_I'm sorry, but I can't._

"I will do what I must. Thank you, Cody."

Obi-Wan turns his vision away from the only man left to stop him from his folly. The shuttle lifts off and sails smoothly out of the hangar, quite the opposite of the tumultuous state of his mind. The streaks of hyperdrive fill his vision, sealing his decision.   
  


Obi-Wan does not look back at Anakin while they glide through the expanse of space. He keeps his gaze locked on the stars before him, heart pounding with every second that is wasted. Soon enough, the shuttle comes to its abrupt stop as the computer registers the desired coordinates, and the _blood red_ of Dathomir washes his eyes. His hands clench into fists, visions of the cursed color plaguing him. Obi-Wan takes a second to breathe. He looks at his spotless hands, inspecting every inch of his skin.

_There is nothing._

Anakin lays, unmoving, behind him.

With the slightest tremble of his hands, Obi-Wan guides the shuttle through the curling thickets, their branches reaching for them, and settles it upon the marshy dark soil of the planet. He spots no red hoods nor magenta weapons in the dead bushes, but he knows that he has caught their attention; no visitor ever goes unnoticed by the clan. He grasps the control panel and helps himself up with it, mind reeling from what he is about to do. Jedi morals tug at his spirit, ordering him back to his troops and the balance of Light. Anakin's lack of Force signature overpowers them.

He tucks his hands beneath the body's knees and back before hoisting the dead weight up. Anakin's head lolls, curls swaying in the air. His eyes remain closed no matter how much Obi-Wan wishes for them to open, that brilliant, confident blue forever lost to the world.

Though not for much longer.

The moment his foot falls onto the soil, the clan unveils itself with the _wring_ of bows and blades. He makes no move to defend himself. Instead, his attention falls upon a certain Nightsister who struts out, front and center, her face shining with something that he can't quite decipher.

"What brings you to our lovely abode, Kenobi? Oh—..." Her sharp eyes fall upon Anakin, picking at his mangled flesh. A certain kind of content paints her face; glee at seeing an enemy struck down.

"I see Skywalker has finally claimed the fate that he so deserved." The malicious quirk of her lip bothers him to no end. His hackles rise.

" _Ventress_ ," Obi-Wan grits through clenched teeth, chest hurting with every second that the man in his arms doesn't move. His head dips as he struggles to calm that unbearable feeling. "Help him. Helps us, please."

He looks up, eyebrows furrowed. The look of sardonic shock does not miss him.

"Help you? Tell me why I shouldn't strike you down where you grovel pathetically, Kenobi."

"The Separatists left you for dead—separatists that are allied with the Sith. We cannot take them down without Anakin." His fingers tighten their grip on cold flesh and soiled clothing.

"That's where you're wrong, Jedi. I don't care about your squabbling between righteousness and evil. I only want one thing: I want that Count _dead_."

"Justice will only be served if you help me."

"I can kill Dooku on my own."

Time is running out. Has run out—too many hours ago. Too long ago when blood had flown out of Anakin—a river of life.

"And how much good have your attempts done so far?" Obi-Wan snaps and finds himself regretting it instantly as he feels Ventress' rage spike to another level.

"What good would that _corpse_ —" Obi-wan flinches. "—do to me?"

"He's—" Obi-Wan's gaze leaps to Anakin's still form. He can't delay it any longer. "He's the Chosen One!"

A mocking look graces Ventress' face at the proclamation. The Nightsisters by her side, however, perk up, their cool eyes fixated on Anakin.

"Why do I care if he's the 'Chosen One?'"

_She doesn't know_ , Obi-Wan thinks to himself, despair building up in his weary body.

"Sister—" One of the Nightsisters speaks up, though she is quickly hushed by Ventress' snarl.

"Quiet, this is between him and me."

"Asajj."

"What?" Ventress whirls to look at another Nightsister, tone sharp and cold. The Nightsister replies, unperturbed.

"If the Jedi does not lie that he is the Chosen One, he must be brought to Mother."

"He must've been the disturbance that Mother felt." Another murmurs, head swiveling to look at Ventress.

The chime of her sisters does nothing to soothe Ventress' anger; the red blades recede into their respective hilts anyways.

"Today's your lucky day, Kenobi, though—" her eyes flicker to Anakin, "it certainly wasn't his."

Obi-Wan swallows the spark that threatens to show itself. He needs their help; they are his only option. He nods mutely at the Nightsisters' gesture of 'follow' and complies. Each step only increases the weight in his arms as fear runs through his veins, biting every inch of his body.

What if they can't help? Ventress had not expressed any doubt, but he certainly wouldn’t put it past her to omit any details at the expense of his suffering. No, no. He promised himself that he would fix things. He won't leave Ahsoka without her Master, the Republic without its hero, himself without his best friend.

The Nightsisters have magick that is powerful. He has heard the stories—tales of their resurrections. Obi-Wan is not one for fairy tales, but now he finds himself begging the Force for this one to be true.

"Mother Talzin."

The regal form of Talzin welcomes him with a small nod, red cloth slithering through the air—snakes ready to strike. Her voice, though soft, booms with the supernatural touch of her magick. The ominous glow of the torch-lit walls does little to dull the mystic aura that surrounds her.

"Master Kenobi and... Skywalker." Her black eyes lock onto the still form in Obi-Wan's arms, observing him, before sliding back to look at Obi-Wan.

"Please, I come seeking help."

"I'm afraid I can offer little assistance in this matter..."

Obi-Wan's heart drops, but he pushes on. It wasn't a _no_.

"I know the tales of your magick. You've brought back fallen Nightsisters before, surely you can save him."

Mother Talzin rises from her seat, striding towards him. Obi-Wan does not move as she places her fingers upon Anakin's forehead, sharp nails ghosting cold skin. Her skin is only a few grey shades darker than his.

"He's too far gone," She murmurs, "I cannot guarantee his return... At least, not in the way you want him to. Necromancy demands a price."

"Just bring him back. No matter the cost. I'll trade with him if I have to."

"That I will not do. Your duty is not done yet."

"And neither is his. Anakin is the Chosen One, Mother. You must know what will happen to the galaxy without him. All will be lost."

Mother Talzin does not reply. She stares into the distance, contemplating. Obi-Wan forces himself to breath, to unclench his jaw, and to relax his death grip on the body. She has to see reason; she shares the Force just as he. Though a witch, she knows of it and its balance. She simply refers to it by a different name.

"Prepare the altar."

For the first time since the event, a shred of relief fills him to the point where he almost tumbles to the ground. He catches himself quickly, careful not to add any more fatal wounds to Anakin... Not that Anakin would care right now.

"Hold on, Anakin." Obi-Wan mutters, nearly tearing up at the thought of feeling the other Jedi's presence in their currently hollow bond. A bond that is empty and yet, funnily enough, takes up a cruel amount of space in his mind.

Soon, that void will be full. Anakin is coming back. Back to the living, back to his family, back to his side. Obi-Wan repeats the mantra, reassuring himself that he has chosen the right thing. 

Chants weave themselves around him, piercing his ears and instilling a great force around the alter. The towering figure of Talzin traces its hands through the air, each movement and hum accented by a burst of power. It is unlike anything that Obi-Wan has ever felt. He lets the Force wash over him, feeling its loyalty. The Force that drapes itself onto him is neither pure Dark nor Light. It is the Force, nothing more, though it is accented by fierce passion.

It does not hold the hatred of the Sith.

The revelation pacifies Obi-Wan conscience, though that sense of serenity shatters when Anakin's body floats up from the cold stone of the altar, and reality grips Obi-Wan. He has strayed so far. He is disturbing the Force. His actions are sure to upset the balance.

Green mist dances through the air, its light bright on grey skin. It swirls past all, path driven by each Nightsister as they channel it, their presences in the Force mingling until they are one. Chants reach a new pitch. Obi-Wan loses his breath as animation fills Anakin, his limbs writhing, almost as if he were alive. His fingers tingle from the magick that has filled the air. Drumming consumes his ears, though he does not know if it’s the Nightsisters' doing or his own heart racing in his chest.

Mother Talzin gives a cry, claws reaching into the crimson sky, eyes devoid of pupils. The Nightsisters respond, their own chorus joining the echo of the cry. The sound pulsates through Obi-Wan, stunning him, and Anakin drifts back to the altar. Anakin is limp. Lifeless.

Devastation rips through him, though a miniscule part of him—the rational, Jedi one—is relieved. _There is no death, there is the Force._ Perhaps this failure has spared him from committing a mistake that is too grave.

With a single finger, Talzin taps Anakin on the forehead. 

Anakin sits up.

His movements are slow—jerky—but he _moves_ , nonetheless. Obi-Wan finds himself frozen, his breath hitching at the sight. Anakin is no longer still. At once, Obi-wan dismisses the faux acceptance from a few seconds ago. He scrambles past the Nightsisters and swiftly embraces Anakin. His skin is warm. His heart beats. His chest expands with the intake of air. The beginnings of tears well in his eyes. To the hells with attachment, the Jedi in his arms is alive!

_Force, you're back!_

Anakin does not reciprocate. Silence teems from the other side of the bond; the Force gives a low wail. A terrible weight settles in Obi-Wan's core. He unlatches his arms and pulls himself back to look Anakin in the face, confusion prancing in his mind. Blue eyes greet him, but they do not show recognition whatsoever. Realization rings throughout him, the cold discovery scorching him. There is no one behind those eyes. There is no response because there is no Force signature. Obi-Wan is looking at a husk.

A mere _shell_.

"Where is he?" Obi-Wan whips his head, panicked eyes landing upon the lone mother witch. The Nightsisters have vanished, their duty done, almost as if in mourning.

She remains impassive as she meets his gaze, sleeves swaying with the whimsical movement of her hands, though a certain sadness glints within her aura.

"Not all of our Nightsisters make it."

The words shock his being. The more rational part of his mind lingers on her words: _I cannot guarantee his return..._

"No, there must be a way. There always is a way!"

"I have done all I can."

"Then tell me who can do more!"

Her head dips for a moment and Obi-Wan hears the last remains of his sanity yelling at him to stop. For a second, he thinks that he has snapped the final straw and that the witch will curse him to oblivion. Luckily, Talzin is not as volatile as Ventress. Instead, Talzin joins in the persuasion, muttering.

"Nothing else can be done." Talzin's eyes shut with finality; her mouth draws a taut line. "Return to your temple, Kenobi. Return to where you belong."

"I cannot. I—" His words fail him, his state preventing any hope of a proper response.

"The prophecy will have to make do. Now, go. Go before you regret this anymore."

"...What do I do with him?" He asks because he is lost, his voice small and broken. What can one even do with a revived loved one who is empty? It feels disgraceful to be so vulnerable before a Nightsister, but there is little he can do in the matter. The world is crumbling, and he has no one to hold on to; not even himself. 

"He is no longer my concern. Do what you will with him." She glides out of sight as the rest of the Nightsisters had, leaving Obi-Wan with the husk. A husk that has merely stared at him the entire time. A husk that is Anakin, but not. A husk who he has risked everything for—his alignment in the Force, his place in the Order, his life—and has gained nothing in return.

The Force is cruel. 

_His life is cruel._

He paces beside the shuttle, hand clasped on top of the other, nails digging away at his knuckles, as he tries to get a scrap of sense back to himself. The movement does little to soothe him, but it’s better than sitting and staring at the living statue next to him. 

He can't go back with Anakin, not like this. But he can't just leave him here either.

Obi-Wan stops and miserably stares at the husk, searching for any semblance of the man who he once knew. He can't just give up. Anakin would've never given up on him. Desperation fills him as he approaches the staring man, hands reaching out to cup his face. Anakin merely blinks, empty eyes focused on him. Now that Obi-Wan looks closer, Anakin looks as unliving as before. His skin is warm, but the grey tint remains. His eyes are blue but glazed as if the man was crying.

He brings their foreheads together, darkness taking over his vision as he reaches through the bond and searches for the light at the other side of it. The bond is freezing and endless—there is no other presence to contain it.

_Anakin._

He calls out into the bond; no one answers except for his own calls. They echo in the void, bouncing off what had once been a bountiful connection, and grow, intensity increasing, until he can only hear the word reverberate through his entire being, and he has forgotten the sound of his heartbeat.

_ANAKIN. ANAKIN. ANAKIN._

Obi-Wan tears away from the bond, stumbling to the side, his legs failing him as he tries to numb the pain that pierces his head. Wheezes wrack his body as he tries to get ahold of himself, hands grasping at the dark red soil under his palms to steady himself. Eventually, the echoes subside, leaving him with bittersweet silence. He finally notices that Anakin remained motionless the whole time.

There is no one in there. Nothing. A vast, dry ocean basin without a single drop of the Force. All activity, all its life, is _gone_. Only shriveled carcasses and picked bones remain. Everything that was once Anakin is null.

Obi-Wan curls further into himself, curses directed at the Nightsisters and their magick ringing out in his head. Deep down, he knows his curses are ill directed, for this pain is his fault and his alone. His attachment—his love—drove him to madness. He stole Anakin, denied him his right to rest, and has now paid an even more agonizing price. 

_Not again._ He had promised himself that no more loved ones would still into his arms. He had promised Ahsoka.

His hands tremble at the disharmony that has seized him. How low he has fallen.

Looking up through disheveled locks, Obi-Wan's eyes land onto the husk.

He cannot bring Anakin back. He cannot hurt Ahsoka more than he has, he cannot disservice Padmé, and he cannot give false hope to the 501st. The thought of their happiness—relief that would embrace them at the sight of him, alive—melting away at the discovery of Anakin's emptiness makes him nauseous.

He should've known better. The Force is no fool, it does not bend to anyone's will, least of all Obi-Wan's.

Ironically, the only individual who might've commanded it was now trapped in its depths, forever lost.

Legs quivering as if he were a newborn fawn, Obi-Wan raises himself to Anakin's level, his heart leaping in his chest. A solution has presented itself—No. Not a solution, but a dastardly thought that has invaded his mind. A parasitic one that keeps eating away at his resolve.

_Kill Anakin._

His blood runs cold at the thought, hands digging into the nest that has become his hair. The Force brims with confusion as his mind collapses.

"No, no. I can't. I can't." He mutters rapidly under his breath, fingers curling deeper into his hair. "Not Anakin, never Anakin."

The vacuum on the other side unnerves him to no end. He is mulling over KILLING ANAKIN and the subject of his thoughts does nothing but eye him. Anakin stares in a way that has a plethora of pleas run through Obi-Wan's head.

He does not know if Anakin is secretly begging for mercy—be that life or death. An angry cry barrels out of his throat. Stupid… It’s all so unfair. Anger melts into sorrow and a terrible defeat drapes over him, his bones growing laden; his body wishes to shut down. The last trickles of Jedi teachings keep him steady enough to stand.

His kyber crystal crows as his fingers ghost the hilt of his 'saber.

His heart begs for him to reconsider. 

Fool. Even now he tries to find another way when it was that desire, that stubbornness to accept the events, that has chained him to this horror. No, Obi-Wan has learned enough. No more repeats. No more mistakes.

There is no other option. He knows there is no one there, no one to grasp, no one to bring home. The echoes that had sieged him were proof enough. Anakin is gone and Obi-Wan has only succeeded in torturing his body to life. It hurts. It burns. The void is cold. His mournful body is blistering. There is no comfort from the two. No relief. The serenity which he had once been able to achieve through the Force is now a long-lost dream. 

Fingers encircle cold metal and blue ignites, casting a cool glow onto the red planet. The hum of the weapon travels up his arm, spreads through his chest, and fills him with power. The power to strike, to rectify the mistake that he has made. A strike that will destroy him. A strike that will save him.

Anakin gazes.

Obi-Wan's vision blurs with tears. No refuge. No support. No hope of bringing Anakin back. 

He raises his blade, the rush of his blood and the thundering of his heart washing out all other sounds. The sounds are deafening, and they only grow louder as the echoes had. Louder. Louder. Louder. The glow accents the husk's unliving features and Obi-Wan's heart speeds up in terror at the small twitch that possessed his hands at the sight.

" _I'm sorry._ " His words, a mere whisper, are drowned out by the incessant roaring. " _I'm sorry. Forgive me_."

Obi-Wan swings.

**Author's Note:**

> my teacher: ok so today we're going to start frankenstein
> 
> my fanfic gremlin brain: say less


End file.
